Clubbing
by Maid Malcolm
Summary: Mal and La'gaan go clubbing and encounter trouble.


La'gaan sank deeper into his two-sizes-too-big hoodie, although he needn't have bothered. Nobody was looking closely enough at the scrawny kid following the giant black man around to get a look at his face. La'gaan wasn't used to being considered scrawny, especially on the surface world, but next to Mal he looked tiny. It wasn't very often that somebody else drew the stares, so he lurked in Mal's shadow as they lined up outside the club.

"You sure about this?" He asked uncertainly.

"'Course I'm sure. This place is cool. You'll love it." Mal didn't sound concerned at all. He glanced up at the neon sign reading 'Shadows' and a nostalgic smile played across his lips.

"How long has it been since you've been here?"

"Not long. Karen and I used to hang here all the time. 'Course, she's so busy at the lab..."

"I'm a substitute for your _girlfriend_?"

"Chill out, it's just somewhere I hang with my friends. Do you wanna get your mind off things or not?"

The bouncer barely glanced at La'gaan, waving him in when Mal put a hand on his shoulder and said firmly, "He's with me." The inside of the club was stifling. The low light didn't bother La'gaan, but the strange coloured flashes did and the music was deafening. The air smelled of smoke and alcohol, reminding him of some kind of weird mix between an oil spill and a fire. Neither alcohol nor heat was good for his gills. He reminded himself that there was no fire, and he wasn't being forced to drink anything, and clamped down on the insistent niggling panic in the back of his mind.

"Dunk? Long time no see, man!"

The caller was a stranger to La'gaan, but Mal clearly recognised him. "Scooter! How've you been?" Mal took La'gaan's elbow and led him through the crowd to the bar, where a small group of young men and a couple of women sat. About half the men were nearly as big as Mal. The other half had the paunchy look of someone who used to be muscular but had recently let themselves go.

"Keepin' busy, keepin' busy," the caller, who was supposedly named Scooter, said. He was one of the muscular ones, with closely trimmed blonde hair and a mouth that always looked like it was sneering. "Who's the kid?"

"This is my man La'gaan," Mal said, nudging La'gaan forward. "We work together."

"That so." Scooter squinted at La'gaan but didn't make any huge effort to look under his hood in the halflight. "Whelp, nice to meet ya, Logan."

"Likewise," La'gaan replied, struggling to be heard over the thundering sound that he supposed was meant to be music. Mal and his friends seemed to have no trouble hearing each other over the racket.

Mal bought a beer. La'gaan ordered a fruit juice. The sugar was kind of like salt water. He wasn't really familiar with customs in human clubs, but he certainly didn't expect to cause any drama by reaching for his cup.

"Waaait a minute," one of Mal's friends said slowly. He was staring at La'gaan's hand.

"Mack..." Mal said in his warning tone.

"Did you bring an alien in here, Dunk?"

"Atlantean," La'gaan corrected quickly.

"Same thing."

"Same thing?! Neptune's beard! I'm not going to sit here and let some surface-dweller pretend he owns the planet! Not that there's anything wrong with aliens anyway, Martian Manhunter is an alien, but I'll have you know that two thirds of the planet's surface is covered in ocean. This planet doesn't become yours just because you've managed to cling to some of the rocks." La'gaan realised that he was shouting. Only Mal's hand on his shoulder was reminding him not to inflate in the crowded room of drunk, easily-panicked bystanders.

Mack stood quickly, scowling at La'gaan. Scooter and a couple of the others were also starting to slowly rise. But Mal put himself between them and La'gaan and said, calmly but firmly, "We're done here."

La'gaan had no desire to back down. But he had even less desire to start a brawl in a crowded building, so he followed.

"So," La'gaan said sharply as soon as they were out in the open, "they're your friends, huh."

"We used to play football together. They weren't... well, things were simpler then. At least they seemed simpler." He heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you out here. We should go... play computer games, or somethin'."

"Are you kidding? I'd kick your butt at any game you care to name, chum."

"You're on. Oh wait a minute, I think I left my jacket inside."

"Are you sure you wanna go back – " La'gaan began, but Mal had already left. La'gaan cursed quietly to himself, retreated into an alley, and waited.

"I don't care if you come from space or the ocean, we don't need any aliens around here." Mack sounded really cocky for someone trying to corner an unknown adversary in an alley. There were two guys behind him. Three humans. Probably with no combat training. La'gaan could handle three untrained humans.

"Trust me, guys, you really don't wanna start this." He unzipped the hoodie. No sense in getting it shredded. But before he could take it off, three more young men appeared a the other end of the alley.

"I think we do." The speaker had a lead pipe. So did another guy. One of the men was drawing a knife. Why was he carrying a knife?!

Six untrained humans, three armed. That might be trickier. But he could go toe-to-toe with Nightwing. So he could probably handle six ordinary guys.

But they might call the police. He didn't want to start an international incident.

The knife-wielder moved forward, slashing uncertainly at the air. No choice.

La'gaan inflated, shreds of jacket falling to the ground around him.

"What the...?" at the sight of him, all six men ran to attack.

Neptune's beard. He was hoping they'd run away. La'gaan roared and swiped at the knife-wielder, but he could only protect himself from so many people at a time.

Suddenly, a very large, very fast figure barrelled into the alley and ploughed right into one of the men wielding a pipe, who went down instantly. Mal stopped and rubbed his shoulder. "Boys. Leave my man La'gaan alone."

"Really, Dunk? You wanna do this?" The other pipe-wielder walked slowly toward him.

"I want to go home. You're making that hard."

La'gaan had thrown the knife-wielder bodily from the alley. One of the unarmed attackers watched him fly overhead, and decided to follow him on foot. The pipe-wielder slowly backed Mal into a corner. La'gaan picked up his two remaining adversaries and smacked them into each other. Mal was trying his warning voice again, but his back was to the wall. "Walk away, Dodge."

"Just stay out of our way, Dunk."

La'gaan picked him up and plucked the pipe from his hands. "I'll help you walk away if you like, clownfish." He tossed him out of the alley and deflated. "Let's get outta here – "

" – Before they bring security," Mal agreed. He was already moving.

"I know he's an old... friend," La'gaan spat, "but were you seriously not gonna fight him?"

"And get my head knocked in?"

"Just dodge the bar and punch."

"Do I look like Nightwing to you? I don't know how to brawl."

"... Seriously?"

"La'gaan, look at me. How often do you think a guy like me actually needs to fight?" He was silent for a moment. "But they... they never used to be like that. I mean, I met Mack when he was defending _me_ from a bunch of racist – it's not important."

"They're not gonna be happy with you next time you see them, Chum."

"Believe me, there won't be a next time."

La'gaan wasn't sure Mal was right about his friends. In his experience, a lot of people were 'like that'. People who thought they were nicer were just people who weren't different enough to rile them up. "Well, you have better friends now."

"Yeah." Mal grinned. "Now hurry up and decide on a video game, I wanna show you how much you've underestimated me."


End file.
